


Oedipus Cux

by Eros_bittersweet



Category: Greek and Roman Mythology
Genre: F/M, Incest, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-13
Updated: 2017-12-13
Packaged: 2019-02-14 09:02:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,115
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13004370
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eros_bittersweet/pseuds/Eros_bittersweet
Summary: Ed is an involuntarily celibate man who travels through time to prevent the story of Oedipus Rex, which he believes has ruined his entire life, from ever happening.





	1. One

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: This story is not graphic and should therefore be SFW, though coarse language is used throughout.

"Please tell me, Selene, that our next visitor won't be so difficult, and that we will have only reasonable questions from now until the end of the day," the prophetess sighed, leaning on my shoulder, as I handed her a glass of water. It was my role, as her acolyte at the temple at Delphi, to watch and learn from her, as one day I would stand in her place, interpreting visions of the future for supplicants to the God Apollo. Part of this preparation was screening the visitors and refining their questions. I had full knowledge of each person on the list that day.

We had just emerged from a torturous session with the King of Thebes, who had spoken such nonsense – that he had fallen in love, and that he would fake his own death and leave the city, ridding Thebes of the curse upon his family. Pythia, the seer of Apollo's temple at Delphi, had endeavoured, in vain, to convince King Laius that this path was only foolishness, and that it was doubtful the curse on Thebes could be lifted without his actual death. Laius had persisted, asking her to see into what the future should hold, if he were to send the Queen a message he'd been murdered by highway robbers. Pythia, instead of an answer to this inquiry, had seen only strange visions in her bowl of water, about two travelers from a distant land fulfilling some destiny of Laius's. Laius had only waved his hands at this.

"I've met these two men already," he said. "One solved the riddle of the Sphinx, and thus gained an audience with me in thanks for ridding the city of the scourge which has plagued it. And the other is his friend, a good and pure man, who has – well, I suppose he's reminded me of my own youth. And yes, these strangers will alter my destiny," he said. "It is because of them that I have decided I would forsake the throne for love."

"But what of your queen?" had asked the prophetess, frowning.

"I cannot return to my wife," protested Laius. "I have only lain with her once in my life. You know how it is with me – I would prefer to lie with a man rather than a woman," he said, and Pythia nodded; this story was familiar to her. "Jocasta seduced me in my drunknenness, twenty years ago, and she bore a child, a child I pierced through the ankles and gave to a shepherd to leave on the hillside, to thwart the prophecy that he would grow up to kill his own father."

"King Laius," protested Jocasta. "The child is surely dead. You told me so yourself. I have looked for him in my visions many times, to be sure, and I receive the same words in answer, constantly – this child of yours does not dwell in this world, but the next one."

"And if I leave Thebes," Laius said triumphantly, "I will certainly not risk fathering another child, who will grow up to kill me."

"But you would leave Thebes with this young man, whom you have just met?" queried Pythia. "How can you be sure this is not infatuation, Laius?"

"It's difficult to explain," stammered Laius. "I saw him, and he was so like - a man I loved in my youth. It was as though he traveled through time, from twenty years ago, to meet me …"

"Chrysippus," whispered Pythia, her eyes wide. "Your first love, whom you taught to chase chariots when he was a young man."

"Yes," sighed Laius. "The very same."

"He is _dead_ , Laius," chastened Pythia. "This is impossible. He's surely an impersonator, seeking to take advantage of you by his resemblance to Chrysippus."

"Look again," protested Laius. "It is him, I'm sure of it. Wherever he dwelt in these years, he is back. I've never been so sure of anything in my entire life."

Pythia's face grew solemn as she searched the bowl again for holy visions, the steam from the mountain crevasse washing over her with its intoxicating fumes. Laius watched her, transfixed. Pythia's eyes widened, and her hands shook as she held the vessel.

"The visitors return in this vision, along with their names," she murmured. "I cannot tell for certain this is the same Chrysippus – all I know is he shares the first part of his name. It is an odd name; he calls himself "Chris," and his companion has no name at all; just…" here Pythia grew silent and stared at the light flickering over the vessel. "Laius," she gasped. "These two visitors will bring about your death before they leave again."

"I know Chrysippus would never hurt me, so it must be this other man," countered Laius. "I will live out my final days in the arms of the man I love. I have waited so long for him. Pythia, I do not ask your permission; I make my last declaration as King, that I will do this, and I know as prophetess, you may speak of what I say here in confidence to no one, or else the Gods will curse you."

"The gods laugh at the will of Kings," Pythia reminded him. "Foolish is the man who thinks he can demand gifts of the gods, or trick them into lifting curses."

"Then I take my leave," bowed Laius. "Beware the stranger who seeks your counsel. Chrysippus warns me that his ears are closed to the gods and he will not listen to his own fate if it is not what he wishes to hear."

"How would Chrysippus know?" said Pythia. "He does not have the gift of prophecy."

"He knows," said Laius. "I am certain he knows."

 


	2. Chapter Two

Pythia and I had just retread this entire conversation as she sipped water and recovered from her efforts to dissuade the King from abandoning Thebes. This visitor, the friend of Chrysippus with no name, was next, and I dreaded telling Pythia this, for, as Laius had warned us, I was sure he would be unreasonable and rude, based on my knowledge of this man.

"Laius was right to worry, Pythia," I sighed, and wiped her brow with the sleeve of my dress. She turned her eyes towards heaven as though to beseech the reason the Gods tested her today. "Laius is acting foolishly and pridefully, but at least his decisions are comprehensible. This man would not even listen to my guiding questions; he said they were beneath him. He's the strangest man I've ever seen. He seems so angry all the time. He speaks in such vulgar Greek, and he uses words I don't understand."

"Lovely," groaned Pythia. "And where is he from?"

"A strange island I have never heard of – _Ameriki_ , or something like this."

"And the nature of the question he has prepared for me?"

"He has no question," I said. I could see from Pythia's expression that she found this as odd as I did, for who was hubristic enough to come to the gods themselves with answers, not questions? "He claims he has knowledge of the future of Thebes, and can prevent a tragedy from occurring."

"Curious," muttered Pythia. "It seems, if Laius is determined, the city will be without a ruler, which is surely tragedy enough. Well, perhaps this traveler might give us insight even if he has no manners. And in return, what does this man seek, Selene?"

"He said that he himself dwelled under a terrible curse," I continued, "which he wanted to lift, and that he had traveled – I think the said _through_ time, but perhaps he meant for a very _long_ time, his Greek is so odd – to see us."

"I see," said Pythia. "I will not make you speak of his prophecy. It should come from his lips or I will ruin my own ability to see further. I'm not certain of what I can do, but…." She shrugged, and turned to walk back to the seat over the vaporous fumes in the mountain hillside.

 


	3. Chapter Three

Tell me, young traveler," intoned Pythia, leaning forward in her chair, "How did you know the answer to the Sphinx's question?"

"It was easy," shrugged the young man. He was slight, and his tunic hung on his body. He scratched his narrow chin, and his downturned eyes darted right and left. "I just, like, answered the stupid question it asked."

"The _stupid_ question?" questioned Pythia. "No one else has been able to answer it."

"It seemed obvious to me," said the man. Did I discern a slight sneer on his face?

"So, tell me," said Pythia. "What is it, that walks on four legs at dawn, two legs at midday, and three legs in the evening?"

"The answer to that one is "a man," and it's not even that difficult," said the supplicant, nonchalantly. "A baby crawls, a grown man walks, and then a feeble decrepit old dude uses a cane, because you don't have wheelchairs yet."

"Wheelchairs?" frowned Pythia.

"It's not important," said the man. "Anyway, that's not what the Sphinx asked me. She changed it up, the liar. So typical of a woman, to lie. But it was almost the same question. Let me see if I can remember it," he said, and then closed his eyes as he recalled the riddle:

" _He looks in the mirror to see his fate; He looks to the fates to burn in their fires; he looks to the flames to see his own heart. What is his name?"_

"Curious," muttered Pythia. "The Sphinx has never spoken that riddle before, to my knowledge. Why would she give you a different one?"

"It's too easy, right?" said the man. Pythia looked bemused. "She was probably bored of this dumb city and of being such a waste of a face," said the man. "Can't be easy to fly around with a level-10 face and tits on a sub-2 disgusting winged animal body."

Pythia flinched, grasped a sprig of laurel she kept beside her, and muttered an incantation as she cleared the air. "Had you not ridded Thebes of this scourge," she chastised, "I would have you thrown out of the temple. The Sphinx may be a cursed being, but nevertheless, some words should not be spoken in blasphemy."

"Whatever," shrugged the young man. "I guess Thebes is full of stupid people or something. The answer to the riddle..." here, he paused and sneered to himself again. "You're SURE you don't want to guess?"

"Hmm," mused Pythia. "I would say Narcissus, based on the first line, but he drowned, instead of burning."

"The answer is a lonely man," said the supplicant, triumphantly. "Looks are _everything_. That's the fate in the mirror. Getting a prophecy from a woman - now that's gonna burn you, just like the riddle says. And, of course, my heart is tortured by what I can't have - girls. So, I told her the answer, and then this freakish thing, like, THREW herself down from the city gates and fucking _died_ right in front of me. It was kind of life-fuel, I guess, seeing a woman, even a monster of a woman, die like that."

"Life-fuel," muttered Pythia, looking distraught. "Such callous words, over another's death, even one as accursed and vile as the Sphinx."

"It was her fate, though, right?" shrugged the man. "I was just playing my role. I'm not to blame."

"This fate of your own, of which you speak," frowned Pythia. "What is it that has compelled you to travel so far to seek the Oracle at Delphi, if you believe it will only harm you?"

"It's this goddamned story, which has followed me around most of my life," said the man. "I want to stop it from happening, all because of the dumb name my parents gave me."

"What is your name, supplicant of Apollo?"

"Ed. It's Ed." Seeing Pythia's blank face, the man scrawled his name in the dust, shaking his head at Pythia's incomprehension.

"Eh-dee," sounded Pythia. "That is not a name; it is two letters in a row."

"It's a name, where I'm from," offered the man. "And doesn't it remind you of another name?"

"No," said Pythia, staring at him with wide eyes.

"Right," sighed the man, and he began to write in the dust on the floor yet again. "God, this century is filled to the brim with dumb bitches, isn't it?"

" _Οιδίπους_ _,"_ read Pythia, frowning. "What an odd name – a child called 'Swollen Foot? This is also no name at all.'"

"Exactly," said the man. "King Oedipus of Thebes. You know what happens to him, right?"

"I do not," said Pythia.

"The fumes of superglue mountain, or whatever you're huffing right now, must be running out, if you can't see this coming," jested the man. "King Laius and Queen Jocasta, right? They're his parents; Oedipus's parents, that is."

"The king and queen have no living son," intoned Pythia.

"That's what everyone thinks," said the man. "The truth is, he's alive, and he's been adopted. He's going to come to this city, not knowing who his parents really are, and he's going to meet his father Laius on the road, and fight with him after a dumb argument, and kill him. And then he's going to marry Queen Jocasta, his own mom. And his name is Oedipus, and I'm here to stop him, so goddamned Sophocles can never write his dumb play about it all, and if I find some chick to bang here who will _listen_ to me instead of telling me on the internet to shut up about how I'm too ugly to love, so much the better. Maybe I'll never return home at all."

"By Apollo's own light," breathed Pythia. "And how do you know this, if I'm to believe it's true?"

"I'm from the future," offered the young man. Pythia composed her face; I could tell she thought the man was likely insane, and given Laius's confession, perhaps this belief in time-travel was contagious, but she humored him.

"How, strange traveler, did you fly through time itself?"

"I dunno the specifics of it," shrugged the man. "It was like we were in one time one minute, and then I fell asleep, and woke up someplace else. Honestly, it was my friend Chris, from my political theory course, who convinced me to try it. If it weren't for him, I definitely would never have believed this new-age crap was possible in the first place."

"Your friend appealed to the god Chronos, master of time?" queried Pythia.

"Sure, if Chronos is some ugly old hag working as a tarot card reader in a dumpy strip mall," laughed Ed, condescendingly. "This used-up bitch wouldn't give us the time of day at first, but Chris kept talking to her about love and his heart's desire, and how he was living in the wrong time. Pathetic drivel that women love, you know. And then he, for whatever reason, made me show her my ankles. I'm, like, literally an ankle-cel, my ankles are so hideous, all scarred up and shit. They're part of the reason I can't get laid. But it's nothing to me if some prehistoric unfuckable roastie saw them, so I showed her. I had broken ankles as a baby and whoever did the surgery should have been sued into tomorrow, and now I have this awful limp. But this witch saw them, and suddenly she was all, 'Oooh, let me help you, blah blah blah my two idiot sisters wanted to change the past by saving you both, and now it's my chance to intervene and put you two back in the time where you belong, and I was like, YES, put me back in a time when I won't be an incel; that sounds great, I don't care how you do it."

Pythia gestured to me to come closer. "Selene," she whispered under her breath. "Do you have any idea whatsoever about what he is saying about these – _cells?_ Does he refer to a prison of the mind?"

"I suppose," I whispered back. "I'm not certain what he means with all this 'fuckable' nonsense either. I don't comprehend it in the least. But I think we need to keep him talking, because if he's not crazy, this sounds important."

"You don't believe me," he accused us. "Stop whispering to each other about me. God, you are too obvious – I can see right through this."

"This seer," said Pythia, changing the subject. "Do you recall her name?"

"Nah," shrugged the man. "She did have a super dumb name for her fortune teller store. "Atropos," or something like that – sounds like entropy, as if people who believe in science would ever believe in fortune tellers."

"Atropos. That's the name of the third fate, the one who cuts the thread of your life," Pythia informed him.

"Yeah, well, I'm still alive, so," the man shrugged. "Obviously she underestimates me if she thinks I can't see my way through a plot I already know. I mean, I've already killed the Sphinx, so I'm ahead of the story here."

"Which story is this?" asked Pythia.

"The one we're talking about, which you can't seem to understand, even though _you're_ the one who's supposed to know the future," drawled the young man, his voice dripping with condescension. Pythia scowled, but kept silent. "Oedipus Rex," he continued. "The one that describes what's going to happen right in Thebes just about now."

"With the plot you mentioned before – where this man, Oedipus, kills his father and marries his mother?"

"Yeah," said the young man. "The story that's ruined my entire life. I'm practically an Oedipus-cel, even though I would never be so cucked as to do what he did, because _ew_. But it all started with my own mistake, when I read the role of Oedipus as we were studying the play in English class. I had the scars on my ankles, and my name is Ed, which sounds sort of vaguely like Oedipus, and I'm adopted. So all the fucking horrible people in my grade decided that I was _literally_ Oedipus and I was going to fuck my mom and kill my dad, and they would NOT shut up about it. They put me in the yearbook, every year, and snuck in some shit reference to the play. "You don't need an oracle to know that this young man will have success performing ancient tragedies on the grand stage," they wrote once. All because I said I thought feminism was a cancer and the yearbook organizers are insane feminazis who wanted revenge. And my mom called the office to complain, and the administration did fuck-all about it," he said, throwing up his arms in disgust.

"How tragic," muttered Pythia, not unkindly. I could tell she was humoring him, to harvest the clues he was so carelessly dropping for her now in his immense pride.

"And they cursed me," the man was saying. "No girl will look twice at me, even after high school, because of my limp, and my stupid scarred ankles, and because my name sounds like Oedipus. I've been celibate all my life. I bet that girl over there will tell you how ugly I am to my face, even though she's a six at best," he said, turning to me with anger in his eyes.

I stared back at the man, not knowing what to say.

"Yup, that's the look," sneered the man. "The look that says, 'stop looking at me, you're subhuman.'"

"It's not that," I stammered out, embarrassed. "I am a servant of the God Apollo, and will never marry."

"Is that a line that works in 420 BC?" laughed the man. "I have to wash my hair; I have a boyfriend and he's literally the God Apollo. Jesus H. Christ, now I've really heard it all."

"Please do not blaspheme in the house of Apollo," Pythia said, exasperated. "I do not know this other name, but Apollo is sacred here."

"Whatever," Ed sighed.

"Truly, you know little of us," spoke Pythia. "We are both sacred virgins, promised to Apollo." I knew, from practice, that this was a line she used to screen out vile men, and that she, like I, was no stranger to the delights of Aphrodite and Eros.

"You're lying," countered Ed. "I could let it pass once, but not twice in a row. I've read about you priestesses of Apollo. You bang anything you like and you probably call him Apollo when you do it, just for laughs. You're probably as stretched out as that bowl you're holding with all the fun you've had as his sacred virgins."

"Your friend," returned Pythia, waving her laurel sprig in front of her face, as though to cleanse herself again. I could tell it was requiring all her mental discipline to stay focused on this line of questioning while this man verbally abused her. "Why would he wish to come along with you?"

"Simple," said Ed. "Chris knows women where we're from are horrible and slutty. He's always talking about how if we were back in ancient times, we'd be getting laid, no problem. Arranged marriage, for one thing, existed. Women knew their place, except you whores who think you speak for imaginary gods, but, you know, aside from that."

"Did he speak of someone he sought in the past?" asked Pythia.

"No," said the man, for the first time seeming thoughtful. "But now that you mention it, there was something weird about his meeting with the fortune-teller. It was like she was only interested in sending _me_ through time, and not him. He had to beg and plead, when I don't know why one of us would be, and I quote her, 'necessary,' and the other would be 'superfluous.'"

"Why did she decide to send you both?" asked Pythia.

"She did some bullshit bowl-of-water reading thing, like you pretend to do," said Ed. "I'd never seen that before. She said she saw our fates were connected, and neither of us could go back without the other, that I would not be here without Chris having brought me to her, which, well, duh. I could have told her that myself, because he insisted, without all her 'I will seek your fate through Apollo' mumbo-jumbo."

"And when you arrived at the palace – did Chrysippus – I mean, Chris – seem eager to meet the King?"

"Now that you mention it," mused Ed, "It was weird. King Laius, for some reason, started crying his damned face off the moment he saw Chris. Chris hugged him and was crying too. They don't even know each other! It was _super_ gay. Here I thought Chris and I were going to find some chicks to plow, and all he wants to do is hang around with the King, for whatever reason. Then later that evening, Chris told me he might be leaving Thebes soon, and wished me luck stopping Oedipus from coming into town. He reminded me that the story must not be written in stone after all, because I'd beaten Oedipus to killing the Sphinx, so I could probably stop him from murdering Laius and marrying Jocasta, too. And he ran away as I was joking that he was probably going to have gay sex with the king – it was like he didn't even hear me or care."

"Hm," mused Pythia. "So tell me, young Ehdee- Ed, that is. This Oedipus. Why does he not realize he's killing his father, and marrying his mother, in his own story?"

"Because he doesn't know the plot ahead of time," returned Ed. "It's simple. Of course, no one would murder their dad and marry their mom if they knew what they were doing. So, I'll just find him and warn him, and then it won't happen."

"And his ankle injury?" asked Pythia.

"His asshole parents tried to kill him," said Ed. "They pierced his ankles with a spike and left him to be eaten by wild animals, but a shepherd rescued him and brought him to his adoptive parents."

"And it doesn't give you pause," asked Pythia, "That so many details of this story align with your own, and you have arrived at a point in the tale at which you could fulfill all the prophecies of which you speak, and yet you might wait for a man on the road who never arrives?"

"That's ridiculous," laughed Ed. "Just because some witch manages to figure out time-travel doesn't mean _everything_ is fucking magical. That's not how Oedipus works, either. This Oedipus guy, he is definitely Greek, and not a time-traveler. He doesn't know his own story, and I know fucking ALL of this story, so you can't fool me. And you forget that I already met Laius, and I didn't kill him, and he's like, a big tough man, not a hundred-and-ten pound twig like I am, so definitely not my Dad. And do you think I wouldn't know my own mother? She'd be a hideous hag, because I'm such an ugly subhuman man."


	4. Chapter Four

The sound of shouting broke through the quiet of the temple, and Pythia glanced towards the door. We heard a female voice grow nearer and clearer, arguing with the priests who guarded the doorway, then a frantic woman burst into the room.

"Help me, Pythia," screamed Queen Jocasta. "King Laius. He's been murdered by highway robbers!"

The young man blanched at this news. "I've missed him," he said, panicked. "Oh, _shit_. Fucking Oedipus. I was supposed to stop him."

"Queen Jocasta," Pythia greeted her. "I am forbidden by the gods to speak of Laius's… supposed…death…"

"Supposed?!" sobbed Jocasta. "Is it a ruse? He would leave me, instead, by having me believe he is killed?"

Pythia's silence was all the assent she needed.

"Is there another man, Pythia? There have been so many men," she wept into her palms. "But he promised he would uphold the appearance of marriage, and not humiliate me. I suppose, if he spreads news he has died…" her face twisted in fury. "He would always take the cowardly way out of a problem, wouldn't he?"

"I share your sorrow," soothed Pythia. "Tell me, my Queen – is this young man's friend Chris also missing from your palace?"

"I know not," sniffed Jocasta. "I was too distraught by the news to pay attention to such trifling matters as an absent guest. I rushed straight to you, to seek your counsel."

"M'lady," said Ed, bowing deeply to her. I noticed his face blushed bright red as he addressed her. "I must inform you that I, myself, have terrible news of the future, which you should hear."

Jocasta's eyes flicked over the man she now noticed. "Eh-de," she greeted him, struggling for composure. "Sphinx-killer of Thebes, and guest of our household. I am sorry to interrupt your visitation with the priestess."

"My Queen," said Ed, his voice shaking. "Please don't worry about that. This man who killed your husband: I know who he is."

"His name?" gasped Jocasta. "I would seek vengeance upon him."

"Oedipus," intoned Ed. "I arrived in this city to prevent this exact thing from happening, and I have failed you." He sank to his knees at her feet.

"Arise, young man," said Jocasta. "You couldn't have known of this. Please don't blame yourself. That is the role of a seer, not a man," she said, her eyes flashing angrily in Pythia's direction. Pythia flinched.

"But I _have_ seen the future," protested Ed, daring to glance up at her face, and blushing all over again. "And I know that this killer will arrive in Thebes, very soon, and will seek your hand in marriage, and you will not be able to recognize him."

"No," gasped Jocasta. "Will you know this man, when you see him? You must stay by my side, and advise me."

"Yes," breathed the man. "That's exactly what I was going to suggest. And you – you no longer have a king. And I could help you with that, too."

"How so?" asked Jocasta.

"I'm, um. I'm a university student and I'm studying political science," stammered Ed.

Jocasta blinked uncomprehendingly at Pythia, who shrugged. "Ah," smiled Jocasta, in his direction. "I do not know this 'university' nor this 'political science' of which you speak," she continued. "Does it mean winning men's hearts and minds with the power of rhetoric?"

"Um, no," said the man. "It's figuring out political systems and how to game them for profit and to screw people over. But, yeah, I could totally, uh, get up to speed on the hearts and minds thing, no worries. I mean, you saw how the sphinx, totally," and here he mimed the sphinx in her death throes, flinging himself to the floor, "because I outsmarted her, because I'm, like, extremely smart," he gasped, lying prone on the ground, flailing his limbs as though he were a dove on the sacrificial altar.

Jocasta laughed. "You amuse me," she said, and an idea dawned in her eyes. "I wonder," she said. "You have ridden the city of its curse. You say that, should another man ask to marry me, it would only bring disaster. My husband is declared dead. Those who save the city from scourge when it is absent a king are promised a great reward, and so you should inherit the crown and become king of Thebes. Would you like to marry me?"

"What?" gasped the man. "Oh my God. Oh my God, you're too beautiful to be with me."

"Charming words," smiled Jocasta. "Let us discuss this, at the palace. Do you wish to send for your parents, to attend the wedding feast we shall arrange?"

"No," croaked out Ed. "They live, like, super far away."

"Wait," Pythia was murmuring, alarm growing in her eyes. "My queen, this young man, it is true, was speaking of a terrible prophecy about this traveler Oedipus, but it could be that he himself does not see the role he shall play, and perhaps it is really he who-"

"NO," screamed Ed. He turned to Pythia and advanced towards her in fury. "I knew you would ruin everything. This woman," he gestured to Jocasta, who blinked in surprise, "Wants to have sex with me. WITH ME. I have waited my entire non-fucking life for this very moment. And if you stop that from happening, I'm going to fucking _murder_ you. I pissed you off with what I said about you being a whore, and now you just want revenge on me by pretending I'm the guy I'm looking for myself. You can't fucking tell me about a story I told you first."

"What are you saying, Pythia?" frowned Jocasta. "Calm yourself, young man," she soothed, taking his arm; he, at first, trembled at her touch, then clutched to her as though he sought maternal comfort.

"Ask this man about his purpose, here in Thebes," Pythia spoke slowly. "Ask this man about his parentage. The sacred trust between the seer and supplicant prevents me from saying more, but you _must_ ask him, Jocasta, and question what became of the baby with the pierced ankles you abandoned on a hillside."

Jocasta's eyes filled with tears at the recollection. "I've never forgiven Laius for that," she murmured. Then she glanced down at Ed's sandal-clad feet, the deep red scars along his ankles visible even in the dim light, and frowned.

"Lies," Ed yelled. "There's no fucking way – I'm from two thousand five hundred years in the future. I was found with broken ankles on a hillside in the year 1998. I'm a goddamned _time traveler_. There's no possible way you can believe the false priestess," he shrieked at Jocasta. He was hauling her towards the door; they both turned back at nearly the same moment to look at us as they retreated, Ed's face in fury, Jocasta's in confusion.

"Look," Pythia said, to me as they turned. A strange, otherworldly light flashed through the temple, and I saw it all with sudden clarity as though I'd never seen them before, even while they stood just an arm's breadth away. They had moved with the same gait, they were the same height, their delicate wrists and pale arms were echoes of one another, as they flashed back and forth in rhythm with their quick and matching footsteps. Only Jocasta's face was stunningly beautiful, while Ed had Laius's crude nose, weak jaw, and dark, downcast eyes.

"No," gasped Pythia. But the young man pulled the woman outside the temple door before she could hear another sound of protest.

 


	5. Chapter Five

"Must it be so, Pythia?" wept Laius. He'd come back to us, after he'd heard the news of Jocasta's impending marriage, so soon after his supposed death, and, he told us, Chrysippus had fought with him every step of the way to prevent his return to seek answers about what this meant for Thebes. "Is there no other reasonable explanation for this?"

"You've seen the boy," said Pythia. "Did Chrysippus not notice that his face is made in your very own image?"

"He's a wisp of a man," dismissed Laius. "Frankly, I see nothing of me in him whatsoever. He couldn't win a fight between himself and a strong breeze. I am unsure why Chrysippus worries so much, that he will kill me."

"Because he knows," scolded Pythia. "Certainly, he knows. You've said it yourself. And you've seen the man's pierced ankles. Chrysippus used Oedipus to reunite himself with you and to convince you to leave Thebes, to protect your life."

"It really is my own son, then," Laius was weeping at Pythia's feet. "So, he is fated to kill me. And you think, when he marries, he will lie with…"

"Yes," said Pythia. "And I'm afraid this is the end, Laius. I'm afraid there's nothing else to do. You know how you must act, if you wish to prevent this monstrosity from happening. The wedding is tonight, and it is now early evening. She will not lie with him before the wedding night."

"She's seen his wounds, though," said Laius. "Surely they must bring our lost son to her mind."

"She's seen them, yet she is blind to what they mean," said Pythia. "She's convinced herself that women really know nothing except what comes from the mouth of a man, and Oedipus is convinced they are pure coincidence. We Greeks know there is no such thing."

"But the prophecy," wept Laius. "I'm going to die, if I stop it, aren't I."

"You may die," said Pythia. "The prophecy says you will. But if you do not go, your own son will certainly bear children with his own mother."

Laius crawled out of the room on his hands and knees, retching. He arrived at the doorway. The moonlight illuminated him as he stood in its opening. Chrysippus leapt of the chariot where he waited, and gathered him into his arms. They embraced passionately, and this was the last I saw of them before I hid in the shadow of the open door to listen.

"I must go, Chrysippus," said Laius. "I must stop my son from doing this vile deed."

"You will not find him at the palace," said Chrysippus. "I sent word that you would come back to prevent this from happening, and that you were willing to kill Ed for taking Jocasta. They have fled by now, for certain, and you will not find them."

"You- what?" gasped Laius. "You would leave my son to live out this curse with my wife – to father children with her, even?"

"But you don't love her," said Chrysippus, panic in his voice. "And without me, you would never have known he was your son at all."

"Chrysippus," said Laius; I could hear the anger in his voice. "You are a cruel man. You would travel through time to give your love to me yet at the same moment, you would condemn my own flesh and blood to incest and blasphemy before the gods."

"They don't know," protested Chrysippus. "They will never know, perhaps, if you do not tell them."

"I must try," said Laius. "I'm not that heartless a man after all, I suppose."

"Not even for me?" pleaded Chrysippus. "I was willing to kill for you, Laius. I gave everything to come back to you."

"Wait," said Laius. "I see the lights, on the road, twisting towards us at Delphi. I see the royal carriage advances."

"Don't go," admonished Chrysippus, clinging to Laius. "I won't let you."

But I heard Laius's footsteps rush towards the carriage, and the sound of the wheels on the road.


End file.
